A Desert Dweller
by Dalara
Summary: Obi-Wan's POV


This is another one of my short stories. 

I've never written from Obi-Wan's (or anyone else's for that matter) POV before and I'm a bit uncomfortable doing so. 

The usual disclaimer applies. I don't own anything.

Please, tell me what you think.

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Severe, suffocating, intolerable heat. It's pressing down on me. It drains my body, it crushes my spirit. Will it be my constant companion for the rest of my life? Will it follow me beyond my death? Will it be with me forever? 

Drive those thoughts away! There's no place for them. To no avail. They return again and again – a deadly circle that sucks you in. Will I ever be able to break away from it? Will I ever gain freedom?

I look at the walls of my cage – the cage I've built for myself. There's the desert behind them. Broad and endless. Wild. There is freedom. But is it there? Is there freedom at all? Anywhere?

The walls press down on me. I choke under their weight. I need to get away from this cage! From my home. My  _home _. I feel sarcastic, just a bit sad, lopsided smile blossom on my face. Home. How could this pathetic excuse for a hut be called a home? It's no home, just a rock in the desert. A rock that stands alone in the immensity of empty sand. Perfect for me because I am as forlorn as it is. There is nowhere for me to go. There are no friends left. Nothing's left – only my duty. Duty is what keeps me upright, and at the same time it is what makes up the basis of my cage.

I get up and pace the tiny room edgily, unable to hold my boiling emotions inside.  _Some Jedi Master you are, _ I laugh bitterly.  _Where's your control? _

But who needs control here? There's no one to see me. No one to lecture me or rebuke me for my lack of control. Who needs me?

They all think I'm dead already. Well, they are almost right. I've buried myself here – alive. Still alive when everyone else is dead. Not fare! I make a face.

Fair? Ha! Like there is justice in life! But perhaps there is. Otherwise why would I be here? Why would I have this fate? Fate, worse than death. The fate I deserve. And I'm still alive when they all are dead. Is it a reward or a curse? A curse it is.

They all are dead and their faces haunt my dreams, make me jump up from my sleep, crying their names out into the silence of the night. 

I halt at the center of the room, close my eyes and listen. They are here. But I can't see them, can't feel them. They whirl around me soundlessly, but they are only specters, ghosts of the past long gone. I don't know what they want with me. I don't know anything anymore.

It's good I don't have a mirror here. I shiver to think what I might see in it if I had one. 

I open my eyes again and stare at the wall. Yellow. It's yellow. As is everything here. Sand. It's all made of it. Even people here are of sand. Only little pieces of quartz, just as rough. Sand is everywhere. It fills every hole, every pore on this Force forsaken planet. I hate sand!

I don't care what hate leads to. I've seen it already and I don't want to remember…

Out! I need to get out of this house, out into the sand, into the scorching heat of two damned suns.

I take my cloak – I'm not so crazy as to go out without it at this time of the day – and quickly walk out into the blazing heat. Hot sand almost burns my feet through my boots. I don't care. I start to walk. I need to get a wind, at least a little breeze in this oven, even if the breeze is a creation of my own rapid pace. 

I have no destination, I just need to go, to move my feet, to make step after step. And so I put one foot in front of another, and again, and again. My wayward feet try to carry me in the familiar direction. In the direction of where my duty lies. But I refuse them this small victory. Purposefully I turn and go opposite direction. There's nothing there, just naked sand, lying openly in the full view of two greedy suns. Suns that try to burn everything here, to turn everything into their beloved sand. 

I walk. On and on. How long have I been out here? I've lost all track of time. But do I really want to know that? Do I really care? Guess, not. And so I walk. 

I close my eyes and let myself drift with the misty clouds of memories. This is just an afternoon walk we were used to doing, just the two of us – a Master and an apprentice. We used to walk in the gardens, between beautiful plants from all over the galaxy, talking… But that was so long ago. A whole lifetime ago. Or  _was _ it really? Maybe I just have imagined it, my poor head spinning in the mad heat of the unforgiving suns.

A shadow. I get into the shadow of a tall rock and sit down heavily. My legs are buzzing from the long walk, they demand rest. For a moment I consider their demand. Maybe I should continue mocking myself and move onward? Let the physical pain shut out mental anguish? Why can't I simply go insane?

An insane Jedi Master! A derisive grin spreads on my face. Good thing there's no one around to see it. 

Stand up and walk again? No. I need some rest or I'll end up buried in the sand, drained. Cold shiver passes through me at the visage my courteous imagination serves me. 

I lean back against the hard rock, listening to the wind's howls in the canyons. I'm so tired! I need to sleep. Forever, preferably, but that's not an option, not until I keep the last of my promises. The last of my vows.

Whispers of the desert cradle me. My eyelids are leaden; eyes are closing on their own accord. I fight the sleep, but not really. Sshu, something swishes in the air, and I become instantly alert. Blast those Jedi reflexes! I slowly open my eyes to see… two other eyes. Not human. A tusken raider! All sleep vanishes at the sight of his eyes a mere meter from my own. They glow with almost animal hunger and something else. Eyes of a hunter. Eyes of the leader. Eyes of death.

I stare into them. He stares back at me. He is testing me, testing my strength. It's a contest. I look deep into those eyes – two black dots. Nothing else exists for me in this moment. They talk to me. He wants to show only his power, but eyes speak of more. He tries to hide behind a mask of anger and hatred, cruelness. But I can see through it. I know they are only masks.

Feral. Mighty. He's a child of the desert, hardened by life full of struggle, full of fights for survival. 

He radiates confidence and brawn. Magnetism of untamed animal strength bewitches me. 

I feel fine hairs stand up on the back of my neck - not from fear but from some dense archaic instinct. Ancient instinct of prime force.

Show me your power!

He bares his teeth like a wolf. Impressive! For a second I imagine what it might feel like to have those fangs stab my throat, but I quickly shake the feeling off. Concentrate on his eyes again. 

Eye to eye.

A straight open gaze. You don't strive to scare me, you want to conquer me. You want to show you are the strongest here. Yes, you are the leader and you need to prove it. To prove it to me and to whoever watches you from the dunes.

He is confident. He craves my submission. If I waver… 

But I don't waver. I look back with equally open gaze. I have nothing to loose. And I am dangerous. Like he is. Who is stronger?

Minutes trickle by. Universe has contracted into a tight knot of concentration. We stare at each other, neither giving in.

Suddenly something changes. His gaze strays to the side, then falls down. I won. He submits himself to me. I am the strongest here. The world comes back to me again in a flood of colours and sounds. I turn my eyes away from him. There's nothing for me to fear anymore. Not from him. I feel sweat run down my back in streams. Sweat from exertion. Beads of perspiration cover my forehead. Sweat plasters my hair and stings my eyes. But I have won. 

He sits down in a silent obedience. I accept his acquiescence. And I know that I have gotten a devoted… friend? No not a friend. It's something different. But I have his commitment.

He looks up at me, a question in his eyes. He's waiting. I shrug. I never desired domination. And I don't want anything from him. I sit back down tiredly and close my eyes. I know he will not do anything to me now that I've won. He's not human to attack when the fight is over. I just want him go.

Shadows have shifted. I open my eyes. He's gone. Or maybe it was only my imagination? A step towards insanity for a crazy old hermit? Slowly I get up. I try to persuade myself it was just a dream. How ridiculous people sometimes are! But I know it was not a dream. And I know that he will come whenever I need his help.

For there **is** loyalty.

The End.

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